0.275.023.M41
April 9th, 2005.
Black Mesa goes through with a high-power experiment designed to draw energy through the Xen dimension and filter it through anomalous materials found there, hoping to recreate the unique physics found there.
Instead, they opened a rift between Earth's dimension and the Xen dimension in an event known as the Resonance Cascade. Most of the scientists and aliens are killed by the United States Marine Corps, the pentagon later calling the mission a success. Time-Space anomalies dubbed as 'Portal Storms' begin to spread across earth. Slowly at first, and then multiplying rapidly. Many years later, this would be discovered to have been the work of the Vortigaunts, a race of aliens fleeing the Universal Union's attempted enslavement en masse. For one week, portal storms, along with billions of alien refugees and wildlife alike from the Xen dimension, pour forth unto the earth, causing terror and death in their wake. Most of rural humanity either flees into the cities for protection, causing more chaos, try to hide, or even fight the aliens with some success, or suffer fates worse than death, turned into an alien incubator.
However, while humanity thought they were already dealing with an invasion, the worst was yet to come.
Six days into the outbreak of portal storms, the Universal Union, a mysterious and vast empire that has conquered entire Universes and dimensions, invades Earth.
The war that follows is known in academic congresses as The Seven Hour War.
An estimated Ninety-Seven percent of humanity was wiped out in the weeks to follow. Much of Earth's other life is estimated to not have fared much better, though the time span took a little longer to reach those numbers. The combine made reproductive suppression fields to make sure no man or woman could ever have children to regrow their numbers.
All of the largest cities of Earth were occupied, and given a number. People were given chemical-laced food and water to make them passive, subservient, compliant, and to forget their past life. The rations costed the combine next to nothing to make, and yet each citizen's daily water-flavored gruel rations were not enough to give them the vitamins, minerals, or calories needed to stop starvation. One was incentivized to be a loyal agent of the new alien state. If you reported enough behavior, you were given one extra ration, one time. If you spent the whole day cleaning litter, you were given one extra ration. One time only, of course.
The only permanent way to increase your rations were to join the alien oppressors as part of the police force, which was a risk. Do your job too well in Civil Protection, and you might be "Promoted". Not that you really had any say in the matter. Your testicles, vocal chords, memories, and parts of your stomach would be taken out of your body, and replaced with Combine vocal chords, Combine memories, and a Combine stomach. Which means you could not eat any foods you could have before, making you completely reliant on the Combine Empire for continued survival. If the Combine went down, so too would you. If your job performance was too low, you would be 'given a maintenance job'. Your augments would be removed, legs would be cut off below the knee, hands cut off, and replaced with scrap metal that barely functioned as legs, two small metal wires on each wrist. Even your eyes would be replaced.
However, if you did well enough as Civil Protection, and Overwatch, eventually you could climb the ranks. With almost nothing resembling you inside your own head and body.
Even with all the horrific cruelty inflicted on all humanity, both the species and the concept, the brightest minds that managed to survive would sometimes ponder things they would never want to ponder.
The war lasted seven hours. The full might of the combine was on earth for 2 weeks. Then, they left. As vast as the Combine presence on earth was, as almost hopeless as it made the fight seem, it was nothing compared to what the invasion, the brutal occupation. The Combine's strategy seemed to suggest that they wanted humanity gone. Extinct. But they did leave the species alive, just on a timer and under complete control. If they really wanted to, all of mankind could be eliminated quickly. Easily.
But for twenty-three long years, they have been left alive. They were called 'citizens', but their only right was to labor in a work camp for years, take a train, be beaten bloody for not having documents, and then labor in a work camp again. So, the question remained.
Why did they leave? Why were they still alive?
0.294.046.M41 (BEFORE CLOCK RESET)
Aboard the Tyrant-Class Crusier HMHM Dominon
A man in brown loafers and a subdued navy blue business suit walked down the long metal grate that was called a corridor. He wouldn't have looked out of place in any business place on earth, but here he was a little… well, underdressed.
Not that he minded, of course.
He turned a corner, and there were two young and clean-shaven guardsmen, nothing un-ordinary about them, guarding a metal door. One of them leaned his gun against his shoulder in the slope arms position, and saluted with his left hand, while the other leaned his eye and hand into a scanner, the light on the door changing from a purple to a nice blue. The thick metal door slid into the nearby wall, opening the room for him.
The agent walked into the barely-lit room, and found an ordinary rectangle-shaped mahogany wood conference table. Leather seats of varying sizes and bulk surrounded him the table, with ordinary wood and metal nameplates with a lit candle set aside in front of these seats.
There were six other seats, besides his. The G-man took a seat, and a low droning began to cover all noise in the room. Soon, the walls, ceiling, and floor of the dark room vanished, looking as if they were sitting around a table in the middle of space.
"My deepest… welcome, and thankss, to… you, for being here… today. I know it hass been… quite, some time, ssince we last… dis-cussed, this certain issue."
One of the masked men, this one wearing black power armor and a gothic-looking coat, his helmet's only vision slit being a vertical and narrow but glowing purple along the middle, responded. His voice sounded pleased, but in a detached sort of way.
"My my my, so humble. I should be the one apologizing. It has been too long since we have had a face-to-face like this. The buried anomaly has kept me a bit busier than I anticipated. It's proven to have much more data still left for me to study, but I've found a way to keep it contained in the meantime."
The G-man nodded.
"You have… not been alone, in that, reg-ard, Mis-terr Bon...drewd. This 'Universal Union' has been quite… elu-sive, in it's inf-orrr-ma...tion, department. But, all setbacks are now.. void."
A man wearing a balaclava, a voice-vox respirator, sunglasses, jeans, and a white long sleeve shirt responded, sitting in his chair like a bird perched. The electronic alteration to his voice made him seem to be speaking with many pitches all at once.
"Not quite all, Mr. G. Administratum affairs might know about your little situation with Taurox-7-3, but that doesn't mean you'll get your men in time. The Union fleet is defeated. Navy intel has confirmed this, and the planet situation is only Class 8 accuracy. There's nothing suggesting they'll send additional ships anytime soon. What makes you so certain the Administratum wants to even bother adding a new planet to the Imperium? Here-teknikals, at that? Just to be a devil's advocate."
"Well, Mister El, I sent out the… call, quite some, eh, time, ago. Rewards outweighed the risks, but the… Toor-ox, Warp Storm, is… eh, finally, dispersed. Thanks in... large part, no doubt, to your, capable acolytes."
"You're forgetting someone." Interjected another masked man. This voice was commanding, young, and demanding. He wore a cloak, full of many subtle different royal purples, reds, and blacks, every edge of his clothing and cape embroidered.
"Ah, yes, Mister… Ze-ro. Your ma-ny knights were quite in-dispen-sable, to following up on Mr. EL's investigation. The… drukhaarii, I believe, won't be troubl...ing this sector, any-time soon, thanks to your tactical prowess, human... resources, and, eh, mechanical ability."
A heavier vox-voice grumbled through through the room. It came from a robot that looked suspiciously similar to a space marine, but with four red round eyes, a big red robe, a bunch of tubes and wires hanging around it's helmet like a beard, and it was about two feet taller and three feet wider. At least, it would have been taller, had it been sitting down.
"+ERROR: INSINUATION THAT INQUISITOR ZERO HAD MECHANICAL ABILITY. CORRECTION: ALL MACHINE-RELATED TASKS WERE UNDER RESPONSIBILITY OF INQUISITOR L4 DASH 1N AND RETINUE.+"
Inquisitor Zero bristled. "Bucket of bolts, you dare-"
Just that moment, out of seemingly nowhere, a greying and old butler with a hefty mustache came through wheeling a cart.
"Would any of the good masters care for some tea?"
Most of them did, and the fighting came to a halt, enjoying their tea.
Gman grumbled. "Thank, you Mr. Watari, you are still quite indisp...ensable to our, operation. I believe we were, eh, getting off track. Now, no… one is sa-ying any of you are, in-capable. You were all… instru-mental and vital in bringing down the, warp storm. If Ms… My, apologies. I don't believe that we've... met. Are you, eh, related to Inquisitor… Kurisu?"
A long and raven-haired girl flicked her hair out with her hand.
"Director Kurisu is pre-occupied with other matters at the moment. She has entrusted me with the full backing of her decision-making authority and representation outside the Ordos Chronos. I am Acolyte Akemi Homura. Pleased to meet you." She said without the barest hint of pleasantness, or any other emotion besides boredom.
G-man adjusted his tie. "Very well, Ms. Akemi. What is the, situation of the relationship bet-ween the... warp, and realspace within the Taurox region? And eh, what… effects, have resulted in the greater time...span that was split, by the rift?"
The stars surrounded them suddenly zoomed out to become very distant, showing the galaxy with a giant rift tearing it in two with a flood of information being displayed, such as shipping routes, warp storms, sector lines, current wars, epidemics, xenos presence, heretical activity, forces deployed, and many other dizzying graphs and numbers before zooming in gradually to a small cluster of stars on the right side of the galaxy.
"The warp's hold on real-space has lessened, as predicted. We cannot know if this caused other warp-storms in the other side of the galaxy, but we've not received word from Segmentum Command on this side of any new storms. Time dilation seems to have put the area occupied by warp storms, and by extension, most of us, 21 years in the past, relative to galactic standard time. To the rest of the Imperium, we have been in the warp storm for just under 2 years. The Emperor is with us."
G-man smiled. "Most ast-ounding work, Ms. Akemi. Just a... few more years, and I have no, doubt it will be you occupying this seat at... our table, most of the time."
Acolyte Akemi Homura grumbled. "I've lost count of how many times you've said that now."
G-man raised an eyebrow, but did not pry further.
"Well, now that administrative, mech-anical, intelligence, and logis...tical problems are all taken care of, we only have the… small issue of, soldiers. Inquisitor, Degurechaff?"
A small blonde haired and blue eyed woman wearing a general's hat and a slightly oversized leather trenchcoat hanging off her shoulders spoke up, the pipe in her mouth puffing smoke from out of it occasionally. She seemed very old and tired in spirit, but almost a child physically.
Not that you could see much of any of her besides her well-polished boots on the table.
A few moments and puffs happened before she spoke anything. "You're far from the only battlefield in this segmentum that needs soldiers. Twenty-three years ago, or two, depending on perspective, in this sector alone we were fighting th'eldar, th'orks, th'tau, and th'nids. All of those take priority right now, if they're still going on." Inquisitor Tanya Degurechaff puffed her pipe a few more times.
"But these flyin' xenos worms put me in a warp-storm for twenty three years. That's twenty-three years of life I won't get back."
Tanya moved the pipe to the other side of her mouth without touching it, and gave a killer smile.
"I'll pull some strings. I've been wanting to give these brain-dead maggots some Krieg hospitality for a long time."
0.180.025.M41
At a classified Administratum planet in the Ghoul Stars,
Hive 18, Block B-760, Sub-Block A-25, Level 5, Cubicle 47590
Scribe-Adept Julbediah Czarus was not a particularly important man. Sure, he made sure the Departmento Munitorm recruitment numbers were up to tithe, but he was the third man along the chain who did that. All he did was check the records on which planet the regiments came from, how many men in a regiment, how equipped they were, and stick a label on them saying where'd they'd best be suited. He was a veteran, after all.
Julbediah sipped his recaf, looking over this newest regiment, when he head a ding indicating he got a new cogi-doc sent to him. Curious, he logged into the cogitator, and took a nice long read after he saw it was marked as urgent, which meant 'Do it in the next week.'
"Krieg? Why the frak would… I'll have to resend this to the deployment departmento, but..." He kept mumbling to himself. As he did, his eyes became wider, and wider.
"Taurox? Warp storm? New planet? Xenos? What the frak..."
And there was an Inquisitorial Seal at the bottom. Not taking any chances, he called his boss immediately.
Brrrrrrrrt…
Brrrrrrrrt…
Brrrrrrrrt…
Brrrrrrrrt…
"We're sorry, but the number you have reached is not available. Please hang up and try again."
'God-Emperor damn my lazy boss.'
Julbediah called twice more, until he got the option to leave a message. He did so, sent an email right afterwards, and then waited in a line for his chance to use the stubborn printer.
Once it was his turn, and after a valiant battle with the toner-less fiend, the documents were printed. Ten times, as was protocol. He spent the rest of the day walking around the office dropping copies by his superiors and the relevant personell. He probably covered 30 miles walking around his workplace.
Once this was done, he went back into his computer, documented his work, and with newfound purpose and a sense of accomplishment, took a well-earned lunch break. Maybe in four hours he could take a nice 4 hour nap before his shift started again, but for now work needed done.